


One Woman's Courage

by starscratch



Category: Orignal Characters - Fandom, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Expanded Middle Earth, F/M, Long, Lots of plot, Middle Earth, Plot, Romance, Slow Burn, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:29:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8848657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starscratch/pseuds/starscratch
Summary: In the days before the famous journey of Thorin's company and the defeat of Sauron, Middle Earth is being rampaged by the evil forces of Sauron. No land is safe from his clutches, and if the rest of Middle Earth wishes to live on, the peoples across the lands must rally together. But uniting the realms will be no easy task. And our hero knows this, but someone has to get the ball rolling. And seeing as no man has attempted to do so, she figures she might as well try to save her world. Will she be able to rally the realms of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and even Hobbit to fight against the evil that plagues their world? Will the different peoples respect her and follow her into the long-term battle against Sauron? Or will she fail in her efforts and parish along with the rest of Middle Earth?





	1. A Rough Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is going to be my first published work EVER so I have no clue how this is going to play out. I'v written stuff before so its not terrible ( I hope). And if you have any constructive criticism to make the story better, please post comments. As many as you like. Just no bashing or useless criticisms. Also, if you happen upon this story thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think of it. Also, this work is still a work in progress so some things arent set in stone (like the relationships bit), so Ill update them as I go along.

     Blood slowly seeped out of the cloth and into the brook. A jagged slit could be seen in the once pristine surcoat. She cursed under her breathe quietly as she did her best to completely purge any evidence of blood from the textile. The coat had been her favorite, though that was an issue of great concern, but now it might signal to any enemies she may come across that she was wounded. In times like these with Sauron’s forces infesting all Middle Earth, the difference between life and death could ride on a single injury, so it was imperative to look as if she had not been shot. The arrow that once jutted out from her shoulder now lay just inches away, its crude tip covered in her blood. Its foul make made it easily distinguishable; it was released from a bow made by an orc. They seemed to rule the lands between the mountain of Erebor and Greenwood the Great, and it was a wonder that she made the journey with only minimal injuries. The chainmail under her surcoat had saved her from the blow becoming fatal. Her armor glittered and glinted in the sunlight coming from above; this made her nervous. She could be easily spotted out in the open, and she knew all too well that if she crossed paths with another orc pack, they would surely pounce on her because she would be an easy kill. And orcs never missed out on an easy kill. She had to hurry and find refuge within the forest. The orcs would not likely follow her, for the elves that inhabited the woods guarded their territory mercilessly. Trespassers were not often spared, but unlike the orcs, they could be reasoned with. The elves were the lesser of two evils at this point. She could not parish on the mission; she must reach Rivendell were the elves were much more friendly and would understand the point of her journey.

     After she finally washed away any signs of blood from her coat, her shoulders slumped with fatigue. The slow burning in her right shoulder pulsed as it grew in magnitude. The wound had to be treated soon or she would risk the possibility of infection. Thankfully, the orcs had driven her to the boarders of a forest where there were vast amounts of plants with many medicinal properties. It was only a matter of finding them in time. Her knowledge of plants was limited, but she knew the basics and what to look for. Or at least she hoped she did. Sauron’s presence throughout the lands made it vital for her to take very possible precaution and be as resourceful as possible.

     Her horse could be heard tromping around in the nearby foliage; he was growing anxious again. Either the orcs had stupidly followed her into the forest or the inhabitants of the forest were nearby and neither one was an encounter she wanted to endure. Quickly, she rinsed the traces of blood from her armor and threw her coat over her shoulders and slide her arms into the sleeves, buttoning the front as fast as her fingers would allow. Slowly, she stood, surveying her surroundings carefully. The realm of the woodland elves could be just as dangerous as any orc pack. One false step as she could be tumbling down to her death or drowning in a swift stream, so caution was her most important asset. Without making a sound, she flew over to her steed, his black coat glistening in the sunlight. She thanks the forces that be for her horse, for she would not have made it this far without him and valued his life as much as her own. He was just as necessary as any well-trained ally or well forged weapon. In hushed and soothing tones, she whispered comforting worlds to the beast before hoisting herself up into the saddle. With a click of her tongue, the horse trotted down the bank of the brook, plunging them both deeper into the vast and deadly forest.


	2. Orcs on the Border

     A final arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself into the back of the last remaining orc. Bodies and blood blemished the once beautiful valley just beyond the borders of the forest. He watched the wretched creature fall to its knees before falling face first into the ground. Snorting through his nose, he laid a hand on the hilt of his sword as he walked among the dead, making certain that the corpses were indeed corpses. The air around him reeked of death and blood, his lips pulling upward in disgust as the putrid smell entered his nostrils. Something about the filthy beasts irked him; he wanted every single orc purged from his homeland. After he had surveyed the area, there was a quiet cough from behind. He turned, his magnificent cloak sprawling out around him as he did so, and found one of his men standing in front of him. The elf bowed slightly with his fist over his heart.

     “My Prince, I believe it wise to return to the castle. The orcs have been driven away from our lands and your father will be wanting you to return unharmed,” he advised.

      His captain of the guard was right. They would simply be wasting time if they remained here. The elven prince nodded slightly, strands of his long almost white hair sliding in front of his shoulders, and began striding towards his mount.

      “Foul creatures,” he spat distastefully. “They should know better than to come here.”

       Just as he had reached his elk, something in the tree line caught his eye. He walked closer and found crudely made arrows rooted within a small group of trees. There were also sallow gouges in the bark, as if a blade as blemished the wood. He gently ran his fingers over the indentions. His icy eyes shifted from the trees to the dirt beneath his feet, finding tracks of what resembled a horse. The captain glanced over at the prince and raised an eyebrow slightly before realizing what had caught the prince’s eye. Glancing over to the lower Silvan elf, the prince’s brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The orcs had not come here by chance; they were tracking something. Or someone. And now, the prey roamed within the forest.

       “The orcs were trailing someone and it would appear as though they thought it wise to seek refuge within our borders,” he stated coldly. “We must track them down. Even if they are enemies of the orcs does not make them our ally. Round up the rest of the troupe and order them to comb the forest for trespassers. And when you find them, bring them to me so we may deal with the unwelcomed guest with the respect they deserve.” A hint of sarcasm could be heard within his voice as the last sentence left his mouth. “I shall travel back to inform my father of these developments.”

       The lesser elf bowed again, only replying with a ‘Yes, my Lord’ before mounting his horse and riding off to find the rest of his party. A troubled and annoyed sigh left the prince’s lips. _These are trying times_ , he thought to himself. After seeing the captain ride into the forest, the prince climbed atop his majestic elk and headed back to the palace.


	3. Caught

            Beams of sunlight freckled the forest floor with hues of yellow and orange, providing fleeting sensations of warmth on her chilled skin. The pain in her shoulder steadily grew, and every minute that the wound went untreated, the likelihood of infection increased significantly. At first, it was a numbing pain, but as time went on, the numbing slowly turned into an intense stinging sensation, like an insect was ravaging her shoulder. Every move she made caused her to whence, and seeing as she was on horseback, she was constantly in pain. She had to find relief fast, or else she would surely be incapacitated in an unknown forest with potential enemies all around. Stopping was not an option. She _must_ keep moving.

            The horse whinnied quietly, as if sensing her pain. A slight smile managed to find its way across her face, and she gently patted the beast’s neck, soothing him. As he walked on, the rider would look to the forest floor, looking for any familiar plants that could aid her in any way. So far, nothing seemed remotely similar to any foliage of her own land, which present obvious problems. While she was well read and knowledgeable in the varying realms of Middle Earth, but one could only retain so much from books. And not only was she completely foreign to the forest, but she was also trespassing. The second the elves realized there was an intruder, they would hunt her down like an animal.

            Her anxieties only grew as she and her steed delved deeper into the forest. Every snap of a fallen tree limb suddenly became a threat. Even the hoof steps of her horse caused her heart to start racing. She wasn’t sure if it was the pain finally getting to her or if it was something more… _sinister_. Time continued on. Her unease only grew with every passing minute. Why did she run into the forest? There could have been so many other options to escape the orcs. The elves would surely kill her with ease; they knowledge of the land far surpassed her own. And if the elves didn’t kill her, the orcs who dared to pursue her would surely finish her off. Her legs tightened slightly around her horse middle, searching for some sort of security.

            A twig snapped underfoot in the forest surrounding her, too far away for it to be the cause of her horse merely walking. Her entire body went rigid and a hand immediately went to the sword at her side. No matter if it was the elves or the orcs, she wasn’t dying today. She pulled back on the reins slightly, signaling for her steed to halt. The second the beast ceased and everything went still, she strained her ears, listening for any source of movement. _Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum._ Her heart started beating in her ears, making it extremely difficult to distinguish what was in her head and what was actually around her. After a few never-ending seconds of fear, she mustered up enough courage to look around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but the feeling that she was being watched grew in spades deep within her gut. Her stomach churned and she had to fight back the urge to vomit. It wasn’t safe here; she wasn’t safe here; someone was on to her.

            Within a split second, she kicked her horse and they were off, leaving a cloud of dust behind them. The air whistled in her ears, rampaged through her hair, blasted against her face. She had to get out; she had to get out; _she had to get out_. Her horse huffed and grunted as he galloped through the forest, weaving in and out and around trees and bushes. His speed nearly matched the speed of her heart. Her chest didn’t seem big enough to contain it as it pounded against her breastbone, ready to completely shatter the bone and burst from her breast. She couldn’t breathe in enough air; the walls of her throat seemed to be growing tighter and tighter until barely any air was reaching her lungs. The pain in her chest was unimaginable, but the amount of adrenaline running through her veins didn’t allow her to focus on the pain. She had to get out; she had to get out _NOW._

            A single arrow whistled through the air and caught the chain mail just under her right arm. The arrow’s tip lodged itself within the metal links and tried to continue flying through the air. With the sudden blow to her side, she was caught unawares and knocked off her horse’s back. She fell out of the saddle and into a passing tree, knocking the wind from her lungs completely. Her body landed on the ground with a load thud, but the second firm ground was beneath her, she jumped to her feet. But to her dismay she was jerked back down to the base of the tree. Her skull collided with the trunk of the tree, forcing her into a momentary stupor. Everything around her spun in rapid circles and the very ground beneath her suddenly seem to retreat right out from under her. Even though the collision stunned her, the searing pain from her shoulder brought her back to reality. She clutched her injured shoulder, crying out in pain with tears forming in her eyes. Her teeth bit down on her lip in an attempt to somehow ease her pain, but her teeth only managed to cut through the skin on her lip, causing it to bleed. As she finally regained all of her senses, she realized that the arrow had not only managed to embed itself in her armor, but it had also lodged itself into the bark behind her. Her hands flew to the arrow and she tugged at it frantically. She couldn’t die; she couldn’t die; she _had_ to reach Rivendell.  After pulling, tugging, and prying, the arrow slowly dislodged itself from the tree and she pulled it from the tree and out of her armor. For a fleeting moment, hop took over her. She was going to get away; she was going to make it out alive. But just seconds after freeing herself, and scrambling to her feet, an arrow was drawn just inches away from her nose.

            A pair of dark green eyes pierced her soul, vanquishing any trace of hope she had. Her eyes were wide with fear and her entire body stiffened. The elf narrowed his eyes at her and said something in Silvan, or what she believed was Silvan. She was ninety-nine percent sure he said something along the lines of ‘if you value your life, you will give up sword and surrender’. Her eyes darted from his to the tip of the arrow, then back to his. She knew the second she surrendered, they would take her back to their king, who was known for merciless reputation when it came to trespassers, and would be executed without any sort of trial. Surrendering was out of the question.

            In the blink of an eye, her hand darted to the hilt of her sword, unsheathed the blade, and sliced straight through the bow. For a moment, the elf was taken aback by her advanced, and she used his surprise to her advantage. With a swift movement, she jabbed his side with the hilt of her weapon, causing to retract in on himself. Just as she was going to deliver another blunt blow to his person, he gripped her arm tightly, stopping the hilt inches away from his forehead. Her free hand flew upwards and carried a surprisingly powerful punch to his jaw. Another swift punch followed, this one to his neck; and finally, as his body faltered to the side, she gave him a good kick to the back of his knee, forcing him down to the ground.

            With her foe momentarily incapacitated, she ran towards the direction her horse and run off in. He never went far without her on his back. Behind her, the elf shouted something out into the woods, and more elves seemed to spawn from the forest. Arrows began flying all around her, lodging themselves within the ground and trees surrounding her. Within in seconds, she finally found her steed and quickly dashed up to him. Practically jumping into the saddle she pulled the reins to steer the beast, but the second before they could ride off farther into the forest, a ring of elves encircled them, bows drawn.

            She froze. This was the end. There was no conceivable way she could take on twenty plus armed elves and make it out alive. Realizing her best chances lay with the king, she reluctantly dropped her sword and slowly put her hands up. As soon as the sword hit the forest floor, one of the elves ordered her to get off the horse and she complied.


	4. Mysterious Woman

           Before him stood the trespasser, a young human woman, which came as a surprise to him. In these times when Sauron’s influence devastated the land, woman of any sort rarely left the confines of their homes and the protection of their husbands. He had expected some sort of rouge dwarf, corrupt man, or some other miserable creature of that sort, but just because she was a female did not mean for her to be underestimated. Women could be just as dangerous and corrupted as a man of any species; their methods of persuasion and manipulation were just as deadly as a sword or an axe. For all he knew, she could be a spy sent by Sauron’s allies or Sauron himself, an assassin to kill his father. It was known throughout Middle Earth that his father was one of the few to openly defy and rebuke Sauron’s rein. An assassination could easily be made an example to all of just how powerful Sauron was. Then there would never be another day of peace. And even if it was just an unfounded assumption, the chance was still present and he was prepared to kill her himself so be it. Nothing could allow Sauron to gain a foothold in his homeland at the expense of his own father’s life.

            With a wave of the king’s hand, the two guards restraining the prisoner released her and bowed slightly before heading back to their posts. The king glanced over at him, signaling for him to replace the guards and restrain her himself. A faint smirk formed on his lips. If anyone was going to serve this trespasser’s punishment, it was going to be him, and the fact that his father trusted him with his safety like this made his chest puff out slightly. He roughly took her left arm, causing her to grimace and grunt in pain. He raised an eyebrow at her. Though his grip was firm, it was nowhere near his full strength. Either she was incredibly weak and fragile or there was something about her he hadn’t seen. Regardless, he unsheathed the sword at his side and rested the blade on her neck. Something about her exposed skin caught his eye. It was scarred with pock marks. Whoever this woman was, there was obviously more too her. And now that he thought about it, the scars extended up to her jawline and even to her face. At least now tracking down who she was wouldn’t be too difficult with her… distinguishable scars. He caught his mind wandering at this time and shook his head slightly, pushing all of his questions and suspensions from his mind. None of that mattered. All that mattered to him at this moment was the reason she was here and to put a stop to whatever her plans were.The king slowly stood and approached them, taking his sweet time. He circled the trespasser and his son, studying her every feature before he decided to finally break the defining silence. His voice was cold as steel and as sharp as the blade against her neck.

            “So you are the unfortunate soul who though they could find refuge in my kingdom,” he began. A smirk soon formed on his lips as well. “I’m sorry, but I believe you are going to be sorely disappointed.  I do not take kindly to trespassers and spies.”

            The smirk vanished as quickly as it had formed, and it was replaced with a stone-cold stare. Thrainduil could feel the woman tense up ever so slightly, but soon after, she seemed to stand taller than before and puff out her chest slightly like a bird ruffling its feathers. He couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle and allow his smirk to grow. She had no idea who she was dealing with and yet here she is acting like she has nothing to be afraid of. Who did this woman think she was? His father loomed over her, and when he spoke again, his voice was as cold and unfeeling as the black void of a starless sky.

            “Why are you here? Who sent you?” he demanded rather than asked.

            There was an unnatural silence between the king and the prisoner. Many moments passed and she still refused to speak. This woman had nerve; he’d give her that. But something told him she’d break long before his father did. The air surrounding the trio seemed to shift from slightly uncomfortable to electrifyingly intense. His father’s expression grew more grave and a fire lit in his eyes.

            “Insolence will not be tolerated!” he barked. “Who sent you?!”

            To aid his father, Thrainduil pressed the blade a bit deeper into her skin, threatening to puncture it. He could feel her muscles tense up even more. She still wasn’t budging.

            “The king has spoken, human filth! It is not wise to refuse to answer him,” he stated coldly.

            The trespasser signed and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was preparing to look upon a hideous monster against her will. When she opened her eyes, her cold gaze nearly matched the king’s icy glare. While she might fear him, she sure didn’t let it show. Before he could press his sword against her throat even harder, she finally cleared her throat and spoke. Her voice was somewhat hoarse due to the sword resting on her vocal cords, but underneath the rasps, it was as cold as iron and as solid as stone. The words were heavy, laced with unfeeling and a lack of emotion, and they all seemed to fall to the ground as soon as they left her mouth.

            “No one sent me here, my lord. I was forced here by a pack of or-“

            “Do not lie to me!” the king cut her off. “No one would dare leave their homeland in a time like this unless espionage and treachery are at work! Especially when it comes to women.”

She seemed to take offense to his last remark and lunged forward slightly. The blade against her neck soon drew blood, but she remained inches away from the king’s face, as if to make sure he would hear her next words.

            “With all due respect, your highness, my gender has nothing to do with my ability to protect myself as I journey across the lands! I was driven into your forest by a pack of orcs! Your men can surely tell you that an orc pack was found just beyond the tree line!”

            The king looked to his son, and Thrainduil nodded slightly, confirming the woman’s words. But nothing in Middle Earth could ever be that plain and simple; everyone had an ulterior motive. Thrainduil was determined to find out just who she was and why she was here, even if it meant squeezing the information out of her.


	5. Trapped

            A heavy iron door slammed shut behind her, along with any opportunity to negotiate with the king. To be honest, that was partly her own fault, seeing as she did let her emotions cloud her judgement, but she had enough pride and dignity to stand up for herself. He might be a king, but that fact did not mean she would allow him to walk all over her.

As she heard footsteps beginning to fade away, she sighed and instinctively relaxed her shoulders, but the second she moved her injured shoulder, pain faired all throughout her body. She hissed in pain and her body went rigid again. A hand went to her wound and clutched it tightly. The cloth surrounding the injury was beginning to feel damp with blood again, and the fact that she was injured would be apparent to everyone. And the second the king or his son found out she was weak in some way, they’d use it against her. She couldn’t let them let them find out. Her mission depending on escaping this place alive. 

Once most of the pain subsided, she evaluated her cell, looking for any weaknesses within the structure that she could use to get out. All four walls were made of solid stone and unless she somehow gained the ability to walk through walls, she wasn’t going anywhere. Next, she checked the door. It was constructed of thick bronze and the frame was even thicker. Slowly, she released her shoulder and gripped the door firmly, then tried to shake the door. Even though her attempts to shake it were weak, she could already tell the door was just about as sturdy and solid as the stone walls. She cursed under her breathe. How the hell was she going to out of this?

With her hopes dimming slightly, she moved over to the stone slab that was obviously meant to be used as a bed and sat down on it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, allowing her mind to focus and explore her options. The least likely scenario was escaping without the king’s knowledge. As she was led to her cell, she noted that the entire palace was crawling with guards that were probably more than capable with a weapon. Even if she managed to escape her cell, a guard would surely see and kill her on site. Telling the king what he wanted to hear and falsely confess to being a spy was out of the question, as was telling him her true intentions, No one must know of her ultimate goal, not until she rallied enough support from the few she felt she could trust. Maybe she should lie her way out, tell him she was traveling to escape Sauron’s grasp on her homeland, or that she was trying to reunite with her kin, both of which were not entirely untrue. But could she pull it off? If he found out she had been lying, it would be just as bad as trying to escape.

Her focus was slowly diverted to the cut she had received on her neck from the prince’s blade. Her hand felt around the area and discovered it was only a superficial wound, which she was grateful for. But she knew she had to be more careful. In stressful times such as these, one hint of aggression could lead to a massacre. She couldn’t let her feelings overcome her, no matter how badly she wanted to give the king a piece of her mind. Another sigh left her lips. This mission was going to be harder than she thought, and she haven’t even managed to get to the more delicate challenges which lay ahead of her.


	6. Something Amiss

            Thrainduil stood by his father’s throne, his jaw clenched as he thought about the trespasser. She was up to something; he knew it. Why else would a woman of her age travel across the lands, unaccompanied? Everything about her reeked of deception and suspicion. But what stood out to him the most was how she reacted when he restrained her. She had acted like his grip would shatter her bones when in actuality, his grip had merely been firm. He supposed she could just be weak, but her demeanor suggested otherwise. If she was really that weak, she would not be traveling alone, where she could easily be killed by orcs. She also couldn’t have fought off an orc pack single handedly and lived or challenged the king or himself if she was as weak as she acted. Her actions suggested she can defend herself holding her own in a fight, both of which require physical strength. So, no, she was not naturally weak. She could be putting on an act, but surely if she brought up the orcs on the boarders to defend her case, she would know that his father would assume she was anything but weak. And the way her face contorted when he grabbed her struck him the most. While he wasn’t an expert on reading people, he had a feeling that her expression was genuine. The only logical explanation left was… she was wounded.

If that was the case, she hid her injury and pain well. And by the way she acted when he grabbed her, he’d guess it was her shoulder. He turned to his father, who was sitting atop his throne with a glass of wine in his hand. 

“My king,” he started. “I do not think she is what she seems.”

His father took a sip of his wine, unaffected by his son’s observations.

“I know she is not. She is hiding something, and I intend to fight out what. For all we know, she is under the influence of Sauron himself and intends to demolish our kingdom from the inside.”

“I do not believe so. Why would an orc pack follow her to our boarders and not infiltrate them with her if she was in league with them? From what I found, there was an altercation between them. I even believe she is wounded.”

The king raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the prince. He pursed his lips slightly as he thought. 

“And how do you figure that?” he asked. 

“When I restrained her, she acted as if I was breaking her arm when my grip was not even half my strength. I thought maybe she was merely a weakling, but if she is capable of fighting orcs, that eliminates that option completely.

“Who’s to say she wasn’t acting to gain your sympathies and to get you to underestimate her?” He sighed. “My son, you cannot let a woman play at your heart like this. I understand you would wish to help her if she was wounded, but that could be just what she wants you to believe. She could easily trap you by playing on your emotions.”

Thrainduil huffed quietly to himself.He wasn’t underestimating her. He legitimately believed she was wounded.His father always did this; he always belittled him on things he felt he knew best on.And when it came to his father, that was basically everything. 

“Father, I am not underestimating her, I truly believ--“

The king held up a hand to silence his son. Thrainduil’s eyes narrowed slightly and furrowed his brow. There was no point. He wouldn’t listen. A flame began to flicker within his belly, fueling an anger long hidden and locked within. One day, when he was king, he promised himself he would listen to his people. Then hopefully he would succeed in ways as a leader that his father failed in.

“I’ve heard enough, Thrainduil. I am tired of the subject. We will discuss this later. Leave her in the cell for a few days with no food or water. Then we shall see if she will talk. She is a wild horse who merely needs to be broken,” he stated coldly. 

As he finished speaking, he stood and left his throne. 

“I am retiring for the day. This entire ordeal had but me in a foul mood that will get us nowhere. Make sure that cell is well guarded. She does not move without my permission, understood?”

Thrainduil clinched his jaw and nodded. Everything put him in a foul mood these days, and Thrainduil was growing quite tired of his father’s attitude. This was a time for war; action must be taken. If this woman was truly a spy, they needed to get information out of her as quickly as possible. His father might be willing to wait, but he wasn’t. 


	7. Caged

            Sounds faded in and out, as well as her sensory feelings and her overall consciousness.  She had somehow managed to get some rest, even if that rest wasn’t at all restful. The stone she laid on was rigid and uneven, allowing juts in the stone to push into her back, ribs, and neck. Resting her head on the stone had been uncomfortable, so she rested her cheek on her arm. Then that resulted in her losing feeling in her arm completely for a while. And every time she shifted even the slightest in hopes of becoming a little more comfortable, her shoulder would flair with pain. Sweat trickled down her face as she had a fever, but she felt as if she was lying in a bed of snow. Her body instinctively tensed and began to shiver, causing her shoulder to hurt even more. After trying to sleep for what seemed like hours, she finally gave up and slowly eased herself into a sitting position. Gingerly, she propped her back up against the wall behind her and slowly opened her eyes. At first, her vision was blurred, probably due to her lack of sleep; however, after a few minutes had passed her vision only improved slightly. Infection was settling in her body. The wound on her shoulder had gone too long without being attended to.

            She cursed under her breathe. This made everything far more difficult. Not only did she have to find a way to escape, but now she had to try to tend to the infected wound as well. And soon. It probably didn’t help that she had been without food or water for what she could only assume were days. If they had allowed her some water, she could at least wash the wound. That was probably the kings doing. He was trying to weaken her mind by allowing her physical state to deteriorate. And the infection would only help him in his efforts. Even though the infection was only in its early stages, if it went untreated for much longer, it would probably immobilize her, possible even be the death of her. But how was she going to receive any sort of medical aid here? She was a prisoner, and the king was purposefully trying to weaken her. So, there was no hope of his subjects helping her in the slightest. She sighed. Wake couldn’t she have stayed home, where she belonged? Why take on this nearly impossible task? There was no way the world’s fate lay with her; she couldn’t even make it past Greenwood without getting injured and dying slowly. How pathetic. She thanked the powers that be that her father couldn’t witness her failure. ‘ _I told you so_ ,’ he’d say. ‘ _How dare you disgrace the family name? You are no daughter of mine._ ’ Her fist slammed against the stone beneath her, as if taking her frustration, disappointment, and self-loathing out on a piece of rock would help anything.

            Suddenly, a pair of footsteps could be heard just beyond the cell door and the figure of the elven prince emerged. ‘ _Great_ ,’ she though. ‘ _More interrogations. Just kill me now._ ’ The prince waved a hang at the guard posted at her cell door, then the elf bowed and took his leave. Her eyes narrowed slightly at him. Why was he getting rid of the guard? A feeling in her gut told her something about this situation wasn’t right, and her gut was rarely wrong. But what could she do? Even if she moved an inched, her shoulder sent waves of paralyzing pain throughout her entire body. She couldn’t fight him, especially if things got ugly. She could hear her heart beating in her ears a mile a minute. There was nothing she could do. She was an insect in his web, paralyzed and helpless, just waiting for her captor to strike.

            Instinctively, she pressed herself up against the wall behind her as hard as she could, trying to elude him even if it made her shoulder burn, sting, and throb. Her hands began to shake slightly as be opened the door and approached her. He strutted up to her at an agonizingly slow pace, like he was intentionally leaving her in suspense, which he probably was. When he finally stood just in front of her, she balled her hands into fists, ready for whatever he was planning to do. If this prince was anything like his father, she could just go ahead and kiss her freedom goodbye. She wasn’t going to give him the answers he wanted and until she either gave in or died, this cell would be her cage.

            The prince looked her over, as if he was looking for something. She clinched her jaw and looked him straight in the eye, showing him she wasn’t afraid of him. This must have amused him, for a smirk slowly grew across his lips. He snorted through his nose. The fact that he found amusement in her declaration of fearlessness ignited a fire within her. She could already tell he was cocky, and she was _not_ about to let him underestimate her.

            “You are an amusing creature,” he finally jested, shattering the tense silence between them. “Here you are, trespassing in our realm, and yet you have the audacity to not only disrespect our king, but also to appear unafraid.”

            His voice was laced with a self-proclaimed superiority and condescending tone. This elf was truly a prince, and not the good kind either. Her lips twisted upwards in a snarl. He smirked again and even chuckled. But the second after the mirth left his mouth, he lunged forward and forced her shoulder against the wall with a firm hand. His fingers latched around her shoulder and dug her wound further into the stone behind her. She screamed out and gritted her teeth together, temporarily blinded by the overwhelming pain. It surged throughout her very being, scorching her veins and muscles and decimating her nerves. After a moment, her body adapted to the sudden flair and released adrenaline throughout her veins; it dulled the pain slightly, just enough for her to come to her senses. With a strong, swift movement, she pulled her free, uninjured arm up and slammed it down on his, forcibly removing his hand from her person, and for good measure, she reared back a leg and gave him a solid kick to the stomach.

            He grunted and stumbled back, nearly toppling over onto the cell floor. The second he stepped away, her hand went to her shoulder and clutched it tightly. She could feel it throb in rhythm with her heartbeat beneath her fingertips. When the prince regained his composure, he stared at his prisoner with astonishment, then rage. He reared a hand back, preparing to deliver a powerful slap to the side of her face, but when she flinched he stopped himself mid swing. Instead, he spoke.  

            “How dare you assault me?!” he bellowed.

            A noise of exasperation left her lips. He was angry because _she_ assaulted _him_? In self-defense? What else did he think she would do? Obviously, he had no idea who she was, but she would soon make that crystal clear to him.

            “Assault you?!” she exclaimed. “You assaulted me and I merely defended myself!”

            He opened his mouth to say something more, but then he shut it almost immediately after. Without another word, the prince spun around on his heels and proceeded to exit the cell. Just before he passed through the threshold, he turned slightly and glared at her over his shoulder.

            “If you value your life, you will not strike me again,” he threatened coldly.

            And with those parting words, he exited her cell with the door clanging shut behind him.


	8. Tough Decisions and New Information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know its been a while, but at least this chapter is definitely longer than the others. Sorry for the long wait. Ive just been really busy lately (though I doubt many people have actually read this far. Comment down below if you have!!!! Affirmation is always encouraging! 
> 
> Also, sorry for any errors. I was really really tired when I finally typed this up.

As he walked down the empty hall that lead to the throne room, his fingers continually rubbed against each other, smearing the blood of his prisoner against his skin. Being an elf with hardly any experience in the matters outside of the palace walls, he has never really seen blood. While elves themselves could bleed, they rarely let anyone get close enough to strike them. The substance was sticky, clinging to his fingertips like watered down sap. He found the texture slightly annoying, but he wanted to learn as much as he could about it; surely his future held his fair share of bloodshed, especially in times of war. When he tired of merely smearing it against his fingers, he held his hand up to his nose and wafted the scent of blood into his nostrils. A metallic taste made his nose hair tingle and even the taste buds in his mouth twinge. He grimaced at the sensation. Somehow, it smelled of death. The scent tied a knot in the bottom of his stomach, making him feel uneasy. He quickly removed his hand away from his face and quickened his pace; he wanted this off of his hand as soon as possible. Unfortunately, he needed it as evidence to prove to his father that he had been right. The king wouldn't believe she was injured otherwise. However, as he thought of his father, the prince slowly came to a stop. Should he really reveal this to his father? Thrainduil looked down at his hand once more, just now realizing how much blood was smudged on his fingertips. He had just grazed the top of the wound when he grabbed her, and blood coated at least half of his fingers with blood. If the wound could produce that much blood just as the beginning point of the wound, how much blood was she losing? His brows furrowed slightly as he estimated how much blood she would have lost over the past few days, and it wasn't looking good. She could very well be bleeding out. His stomach tied itself into even tighter knots. While she was a prisoner and could pose a potential threat to his people, the idea of her slowly dying did not sit well with him. To be honest, he wasn't even sure why that was. He shouldn't give the prisoner a second thought, after all, she trespassed into their kingdom. He should just let her rot and be done with her; that's what his father would do.

But then again, she could have been telling the truth when she was brought before the king. She could have just been traveling across the land and was pushed into their forest by the orcs. After all, he himself discovered the remains of an orc pack at the border. If this was ever going to be resolved and if he wanted to do the right thing, both by his people and by his prisoner, he needed to get to the bottom of this, without his father's intervention. As soon as his father found out she was injured, he'd have her brought before him and squeeze the information out of her, probably killing her before he got any useful information from her. And Thrainduil didn't believe that would help anyone. Besides she could have a family, and once they found out that she died at the hands of his father, they could come and seek revenge. Then his people would be endangered. A sigh escaped his lips. Just thinking about it unsettled him. Everything could spin widely out of control, all because of this one woman. He pinched he bridge of his nose with his clean hand. One thing was clear though; his father could not be allowed to intervene.

His hand slide away from his face, a look of determination overcoming his previous look of frustration. He was going to take his father's place as king one day, so it was about time he started acting like a king. To him, that meant doing what was best for his people, and figuring out just who this woman is was the best way he could start.

~***~

Thrainduil made his way to the dungeon's warrens, deciding he needed to learn as much about this woman as he could, and seeing as she wasn't talking, what better way to find information about someone that examining their belongings. When she was taken to the dungeon, she went through a routine search, and all of her belongings were confiscated, meaning her things should still be in the quarters of the Keeper of the Keys. He entered the room without announcing his presence, and the other elf immediately stood and bowed at the waist slightly with a look of confusion and a trace of fear in his eyes.

"My prince, is there something I can help you with?" he asked,

The prince glanced around the room making sure everything was in order before he spoke.

"Yes. I need to see the prisoner's belongings," he stated emotionlessly.

The lesser elf raised his eyebrows, taken aback by the request. He began to stutter out a response, but he was cut off by a raised hand from Thrainduil. The keeper shut his mouth as quickly as he could before he nodded and walked towards a large, wooden chest with a lock securing it. He grabbed the ring of keys from his belt and nervously flipped though several of them until he managed to find the one to unlock the chest. Impatiently, Thrainduil huffed quietly and subtly began tapping his foot, signaling that he did not have time for this incompetence. The other realized he was taking far too long, quickly unlocked the chest and unlocked the chest. A sword, a saddle bag, a saddle and saddle blanket was all that the chest contained. Thrainduil approached the best and kneeled down, pulling each item out and examining them carefully. His hand first went to the sword, gripping it by the hilt. He grazed his fingertips against the leather grip and admired the craftsmanship and intricacy of the hilt. At the base, there was a fanned-out shell design made of glass, capturing the surrounding light and projecting a rainbow of colors around him. The glass shell led up into the grip made out of finely tanned dark leather, embroidered with a simple braid design, probably to aid into keeping a hand on the weapon at all times. He continued to admire the hilt until he heard a stifled cough behind him, reminding him that he was not alone. The prince looked over his shoulder and gave the lesser elf a stern look before speaking.

"You may leave now," he stated.

The other elf shifted uncomfortably and slightly raised his hand. "But my lord, I'm not sur-"

"You may leave. Now," he demanded with a harsh tone.

Without saying another word, the elf quickly bowed again and hurried out of the room to escape the prince's wrath. As the door closed, Thrainduil continued to admire the sword; it was unlike any other weapon he had seen. While some elements resembled the craftsmanship of his kin, others resembled that of man and even a hint of dwarven smithing. The weapon was light in his hands, suggesting she preferred quick strikes and escapes rather than slow, powerful blows.

After he had carefully examined every detail of the blade, he set it aside and grabbed the saddle bag. To his surprise it was quite heavier than he had expected and was forced to luge it out of the chest, plopping it on the ground with a loud thump. _What could she be carrying that weighed do much?_ Flipping the bag open, his question was soon answered. It was filled with several books. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would someone carry books around instead of weapons and rations as they journeyed across Middle-Earth? While there more expected and practical items in the bag such as a coin purse and food rations, the books still retained most of his attention. His fingers danced over the spines of the volumes before finally choosing one bound in a dark, fine leather. Upon opening the cover, his eyes were greeted with the title _A Catalogue of the Plants of Middle-Earth_ , which completely confused him. Why carry around a book about plants? Did she study plants? Was she the one cataloguing the plants? He flipped through several pages, finding pages that had been marked and scribbled in. When his interest faded with that tome, he moved to the next, bound in a light leather far inferior to its predecessor. The cover was scarred and tattered, cracked by age and use. Even the pages were worn and torn. Flipping through the pages, he realized it was a guide to surviving Middle-Earth's harsh environments. A loose page fell from the book and flitted to the floor. He quickly picked it up off of the floor and glanced over it. It was a list of sorts, listing creatures and their weaknesses. The most numerous facts seemed to pertain to the orcs, which came as no surprise to him. They pillaged everything across the horizon; if they were left alone, they would surely destroy all of Middle-Earth in the name of Sauron. He placed the loose page back into the book and grabbed the last book. The last of the books was simple, bound in plain but durable leather. The pages were filled with hand-written entries, appearing to a journal of sorts. Its pages dated back months before the present day, but he didn't care to read every page. But one page, the last page in particular, caught his eye. It was another list, though this one seemed to be more of a checklist than the one before. The list described everything that was in the saddle bag; the sword, the books, the money, the food, even a spool of thread and a needle for whatever purpose. But there were two items he hadn't found in the bag; something labeled as "evidence" and lock picks.

While the lock picks concerned him, most of his curiosity was focused on the "evidence" listed. What evidence? What was it suppose to prove? And if it was so important, why wasn't it in the bag with almost everything else? He searched though the bag again, more toughly this time and almost pricking his thumb on the needle buried beneath the coin purse, but he found nothing he considered might be the "evidence".

Overall, this woman seemed to be rather unexperienced in worldly matters, relying on books for knowledge, suggesting she had been sheltered until now. And her sword, books, and even the clothes on her back made it seem like she was born into a wealthy family. With all of these books, she certainly seemed like a scholar of sorts who could afford a decent education as well as a young woman with the luxury of having access to such resources. It was a good thing he didn't report her injuries back to his father; if he had, the king could have easily brought the wrath of a powerful family upon his own head without even realizing it. And that is not something the kingdom could bare in this time of war. With this new information in mind, he was glad he kept this to himself and planned to continue doing so. And now, he knew more about her than she knew, which gave him the upper hand. A sly smile spread across his pale lips. Their next meeting would be quite interesting and informative. For him that is.


	9. Author's note

Hey guys! 

Okay, so I'm sorry for the long hiatus I have taken from this story. I've just been really busy with school and just life in general, and as a result, my creative writing juices haven't been flowing. But now since I'm on break from school for a while and I finally know where to take this story, there will be new chapters soon, in fact I'm going to start drafting the next chapter right after I post this. Again, I sorry for taking so long but expect new chapters soon. And for the few that have actually read this far, WOW! Its such a compliment and thank you so much for showing an interest in my writing. 

Well, I'd better get writing, I just wanted to keep you guys posted.

-Starscratch


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